


Bespokes Are Forever

by HappilyShanghaied



Category: Archer (Cartoon), Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Archer AU, Everybody is half drunk, Excessive use of tasers, In case you can't figure it out this is kind of a crack!fic, This is over 1k words, spies! cyborgs! guns!, sue me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 00:58:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9692579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappilyShanghaied/pseuds/HappilyShanghaied
Summary: The Archer AU nobody ever asked for.In case you're unfamiliar with Archer (seriously, go watch it, it's hilarious), think James Bond, except all of the spy agents are barely functioning alcoholics who all sleep with each other.**I missed the 1K word target by a wide mile -- I swear I tried but I couldn't stop!**





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [steenbeans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/steenbeans/gifts).



> I marathoned every season of Archer for the second time, and this is what happened.
> 
>  
> 
> **Special thanks to Brittany for beta'ing this hot mess!**

A bald man in a Russian soldier’s uniform made a slow circle around the strung up body of Logan Echolls, a baton taser gripped in one hand. “If you won't tell us where the microfiche is, Agent Echolls, we have ways of making you talk…”

"Microfiche? Really?” Logan sighed, rolling his neck to relieve the burning muscles in his shoulders. His eyes skipped around the dimly lit cellar walls for anything he could use to free himself. This interrogation was taking way longer than it did last time. “And ‘ways of making me talk?’ Did you come up with this shit all by yourself? Are you Gene Hackman as Lex Luthor?”

The man let out an exasperated curse and jammed the stick into Logan’s side, sending 10,000 volts of electricity into his body.

The agonizing shock reverberated through Logan’s bones, pulling a low grunt from deep within him that melted into laughter as the pain began to subside. “What? _That_ pissed you off? If I really wanted to be mean, I could've called you the Jesse Eisenberg Luthor!”

The soldier, now barely in control, jammed the stick under Logan’s chin. “Stop being such a prick and take this seriously, for once!”

“How am I supposed to take this seriously when you're so bad at your job?” Logan turned his head, now looking toward the invisible audience he knew would be watching intently through the feed on the surveillance camera. “I mean, I’m used to a certain level of quality, you know? A Mexican-Russian operative? What happened to this organization’s vetting process?”

The soldier dropped the stick - along with his act - in a huff, and followed Logan’s gaze. “I can’t work like this!” he shouted at the hidden spectators. “Seriously, fuck this guy.” He turned toward Logan, who was smirking. “And I don't care who your little girlfriend is.”

Using the guard’s distraction, Logan kicked out his leg, nailing his interrogator’s jaw with the heel of his foot and sending man to the ground. “…and that’s what you get for dropping your guard.” Logan preened toward the camera lens.

“Simulation ended,” a female mechanical voice chirped over the loudspeaker just as the lights turned up.

The soldier rubbed his jaw, still scowling at Logan.

“And, just to be clear, Weevil, you might like to know my girlfriend and I are not dating anymore. There. Now, you can be the gossip queen at this week's office coffee klatch.” Logan’s attempt at a smirk was strained, at best. “You're welcome.”

“Yeah, I didn't ask and I really don't give a shit.” Weevil pulled himself back up to stand and shocked Logan again in the stomach with the end of the stick. 

Logan held in a whimper as he rode out the searing pain the jolt left in its wake. Defiant, he lifted his woozy head and chuckled. “That all you got? My girlfriend uses a higher setting than that. _Ex-girlfriend_ , I mean.”

"Right. Like you're not just going to get back together in a week, like you always do." Weevil flipped him the bird on his way out of the room. 

“Are you just going to leave me tied up here like this?” Logan whined, to the person watching the video feed.

 

* * *

 

Keith Mars - observing the exercise from the comms room above - grinned and took a long sip of scotch, then pressed down the intercom button. “I told you not to piss her off again, Echolls, didn't I?”

“That's like telling the sun not to rise in the East!” Logan hissed, as he tugged against his restraints. “I can't help it if your daughter’s histrionic.”

“I'll let her know you said that.” Keith released the button and reveled in the look of blind panic that skittered across his agent's features.

Logan’s bloodshot eyes widened. “Are you trying to get me killed?”

Drink still in hand, Keith leaned over the intercom and held down the button again, taking a moment to torment Logan with the sound of ice rattling against the side of his glass. “You're doing a good enough job of that all on your own, son.”

"Is that--?" Logan physically balked. “Are you drinking my Glengoolie Blue?”

Keith lifted the bottle of stolen booze and poured himself another two fingers. "Yup."

 

* * *

 

 

Veronica Mars was busy strapping a gun to her thigh holster as Logan breezed through the weapons stock room with the amount of grace no man had the right to have after being electrocuted twice.

Her fingers drifted over the taser in her back pocket as she bit back the urge to shock him a third time.

“I can only assume that you’re the reason I was left hanging like a side of beef for over an hour after my simulation finished this afternoon?” Logan’s jaw tensed and cracked, as he approached the counter, turning away from Veronica.

Her eyes darted to his back— a back she cursed herself for still finding so attractive. “You can assume anything you want, Echolls. Nobody's stopping you.”

“I don't make assumptions, that's your game. I got that message loud and clear this morning, when I found a bullet hole in the center of my celadon, bespoke, button down. That was a bespoke Turnbull and Asser, Veronica!” He shot her a disappointed look. "Bespoke!"

“Stop saying ‘bespoke’!” Veronica balled her hands to keep from reaching for her gun again. “And I had to do something to get your attention. Especially after you called me crazy. Never call a woman crazy, Echolls! Certainly not one who carries around a gun.”

“Fair enough.” He nodded, conceding the point. “Though, you could've shot one of my off-the-rack shirts, and not a--”

“--if you say ‘bespoke’ one more time, I will burn your entire closet down.”

“--custom job.”

She groaned, willing her fury to recede. “Anyway, it doesn't matter that I put a hole in that shirt. It was unsalvageable…what, with the lipstick stain on the collar and everything.”

“The lipstick ended up there because of a honeypot mission and you know it! It’s not like I chose to have that woman all over me.”

“Well, you didn't have to look like you enjoyed it so much!”

There was a cough from the other side of the counter.

He turned toward the noise, only to be confronted with Wallace - his normally stoic face betraying a ripple of amusement.

“Oh good, you've finally decided to join us at work today," Logan sneered. "I need a Smith and Wesson .40. Sometime this week would be nice."

Wallace stole a quick glance at Veronica and shrugged. “Sorry man, there's none available.”

“She has one.” Logan frowned, gesturing to Veronica’s holster. “So, clearly they're not _all_ unavailable.”

“No. I meant there's none available…to you.” Wallace winked at Veronica and slammed the metal roll-door on the service window down.

Logan spun around in a peak, brow tight with a simmering annoyance Veronica knew well. “You did this.”

“Wow,” Veronica rolled her eyes, reveling in the momentary slip of Logan's cavalier mask. “Good job solving that case. You really _are_ America’s best secret agent.” She rubbed the cold metal of her side piece, smirking at Logan’s pathetic attempt to not look jealous. “Stay safe,” she said, blowing him a kiss - a parting shot as she left the room.

“Easy for you to say!” He shouted after her.

 

* * *

 

 

“….and now, I can't even check out a service weapon.” Logan sighed melodramatically as he stretched his arms and legs across the length of his friend’s laboratory operating table. “It’s suddenly _my_ fault every woman I meet finds me irresistibly attractive?"

Mac snorted a laugh, and the unexpected movement knocked off the calibration on the mechanical hand she was working on. “Oh shit! Because of your whining, now I'm going to have to do this hand job all over again.”

“Um…phrasing?” Logan erupted into a schoolboy snicker, visibly struggling as he tried to sit up. “We’re still doing the whole ‘phrasing’ thing, right?”

”If by _we_ , you mean you and Veronica, then sure.” She leveled him with an unimpressed stare. “Echolls, are you drunk?”

He rolled his head toward the sound of her voice, his expression droll. “It’s 4pm on a Tuesday, what do you think?”

Mac took in his glassy eyes and immediately noticed the flask dangling casually from his fingers. She pursed her lips, irritated. “The least you can do is share. If I have to listen to you drone on about Veronica, I shouldn't have to do it sober.”

Logan passed her the flask and started to pout. “The woman in question wasn't even really a woman. She was a cyborg, for chrissake. You _know_ how I feel about cyborgs! Besides, I don't even know if she had a vagina!”

“Oh god,” Mac scoffed, choking on her sip of gin. “I'm definitely not drunk enough for this.” She caught her breath and then took another swig. “I thought Veronica said you were in your underwear when she came bursting in to save your ass.”

“I was in my underwear, but that's only because the fembot ‘accidentally’ poured a bottle of champagne on my clothes while she was putting out the fire in my bedroom drapes.” He reached for the flask, but Mac blocked his hand and quickly drained the rest of its contents.

“Your drapes were --?” her face crumpled in confusion. “No. You know what, I don't have enough bandwidth or gin for that part of the story. But answer me this: Veronica also said that the cyborg was in her underwear - did she get 'accidentally' spilled on, too?”

“No, that was by choice.” Logan stifled a burp into the back of his hand, then took in Mac’s hard expression. “Hers! Jeez. Even if I wanted to cheat on Veronica, I hope you'd believe I could come up with a better excuse than that. Give me a little credit!”

“You just told me a cyborg spilled champagne on your clothes while trying to put out a drapery fire in your bedroom.”

Logan harrumphed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Look, I know I have a reputation for being a dog, but I swear I never touched that robot.”

“Why don't you just…I don't know, try talking to Veronica instead of doing that sexy glowering thing you guys always do when you're in a fight?” Mac handed the empty flask back to Logan. “Go to her now. You're out of gin and I need to get back to my fingers.”

“Phrasing,” Logan giggled as he swung his legs over the side of the table and slid unsteadily to his feet.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Logan arrived home, Veronica had moved on from her angry, yelling phase into an oppressive silence.

“Honey! I'm home!” He called out, throwing his suit jacket across the back of the couch before plopping down next to her.

She ignored him in favor of cleaning her gun, a loud exhale the only sign that she’d heard him come in.

“Nice gun.” He stretched his arm behind her, and she responded by scooting a few inches away. “Come on, Veronica. You know that I didn't touch that woman.”

Her gun hit the table with a loud clank. “Then why, pray tell, was there a cyborg vagina in my guest bathroom sink?”

Logan’s eyebrows shot upward with surprise. The enemy agent must've taken it out when he was stripping out of his wet clothes. “I really don't have an answer for that. I mean, etiquette would dictate that a person shouldn’t use a guest bathroom to store cyber-genitalia— as that's more of a master bathroom activity— but it's not like I was aware she would be leaving her delicate _hardware_ anywhere in the house.”

Veronica narrowed her eyes at him - as she always did when she was judging a person's honesty - and her expression softened. “You're telling the truth.”

“Of course I'm telling the truth! You know how much cyborgs freak me out— even the hot ones!” He said, flailing his arms, helplessly.

“Hot?” She pressed two fingers to his lips. “You were already ahead, don't ruin it.”

Logan smiled and pulled her onto his lap. “Am I forgiven?”

“Yes, but if I ever find another vagina in my sink...” Veronica paused and passionately pressed her lips to his neck, then continued trailing kisses across his jaw until she reached his ear. Her teeth grazed the flesh of his earlobe as she continued with a whisper, “... I promise that the next time I put a hole in your shirt, you’ll still be wearing it.”

Logan swallowed hard, before laying her out across the cushions. “Yes, dear.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still working on my multichapter - I'm just swamped with grad school. But, this was so short and I couldn't resist, so I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> If you have the time, let me know what you think!


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